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The moon shines bright. In such a night as this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees and they did make no noise, in such a night.
William Shakespeare
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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Moon
Gently
Sweet
Shines
Wind
Bright
Tree
Kiss
Night
Trees
Make
Noise
Shining
Kissing
Merchants
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law 'twill hardly come out.
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Good with out evil is like light with out darkness which in turn is like righteousness whith out hope.
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O for a horse with wings!
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True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
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I do not hate a proud man, as I do hate the engendering of toads.
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Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.
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Men from children nothing differ.
William Shakespeare
Get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee.
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Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear
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A king of infinite space
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Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!
William Shakespeare
Conceit in weakest bodies works the strongest.
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For the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come at large.
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After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
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We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear To cope malicious censurers, which ever, As rav'nous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new-trimmed, but benefit no further Than vainly longing.
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There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murder in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
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Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears what is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
William Shakespeare
I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.
William Shakespeare
Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious thing we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave.
William Shakespeare
Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty Calls virtue hypocrite takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love, And sets a blister there makes marriage vows As false as dicers' oaths.
William Shakespeare
